Boogeymen Out for a Bite
by Baron Hausenpheffer
Summary: Freddy, Candyman, Chucky, Leprechaun, Michael Myers, and Norman Bates all head to Leatherface's Bar and Grill in search of food and booze. Hey, boogeymen get hungry just like everybody else, y'know?
1. Wine, Dine, and Die

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story. I would list them individually, but that would be a waste of my time and your eyesight.

Author Note: I've been watching oodles of horror flicks lately, and I felt like doing some sort of gigantic crossover starring Hollywood's top boogeymen. Seeing as how I didn't feel like putting forth the effort to write some gigantic, 30-chapter saga, I decided to go for a shorter, more comedic plot. Anyway, here 'tis. Bon appetit!

* * *

Once upon a fair winter's night, a terrible evil came to dine at Leatherface's Bar and Grill. Actually, make that several evils. Freddy Krueger, Chucky, Candyman, Michael Myers, Norman Bates, and Leprechaun had all finished sequels to their movies recently, and they decided to get together at their favorite hangout. 

As soon as they arrived at the restaurant, Michael Myers smashed through the glass door without bothering to open it.

"The lad sure knows how to make an entrance," Leprechaun laughed.

"Yeah, and it doesn't do bad as an exit, either," said Freddy as he stepped over the broken glass.

Leatherface, the owner of the restaurant, just shook his head and sighed.

"_Not these clowns again…_" he thought. "_If they weren't such good customers, I'd turn them into entrees…_"

Shrugging his shoulders, Leatherface asked, "Hmmmmnahee?" ("_How many?_")

Norman Bates replied, "Four adults and two... (_looks down at Chucky and Leprechaun_) uh... children."

"What? 'Children' my ass!" Chucky snarled. "I may be short, but your mother knows just how much of a grown man this doll is! Heh, heh... She told me so last night!"

Norman turned red, then purple, then orange, then green with rage as he thought about the little fellow's insult to his dear old mom. Finally, he erupted, "**HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT MY MOMMY?**"

Pulling a butcher knife from his hip pocket, he dove toward the killer doll. Of course, this maneuver would have been much more successful if Chucky hadn't ducked behind Michael Myers. The butcher knife went deep into Michael's chest, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Uh, oh..." Norman whispered. "Oops. Heh, heh. Sorry about that..."

Michael pulled the knife out, looked at it for a second, and then looked at Norman as if to ask, "Is this yours?" When Norman nodded, Michael buried the knife deep within the psycho's heart. He collapsed into a heap on the floor, streams of black-and-white blood pouring out of him.

"So much for the mama's boy..." Candyman muttered. Looking at Leatherface, he said, "Make that three adults."

"Ohhhheeeedddke," ("_Okie-dokie,_") said Leatherface. "Rrrtttiswrrr." ("_Right this way._")

He led the remaining five serial killers to their table. After looking thoughtful for a moment, he retrieved two booster chairs and placed them on the ends.

After they all sat down, Leatherface said, "Yyyyrwrtrwwwwrrrbeeewtyrrssssshhhrty."

Everyone looked at him in confusion. Finally, Freddy said what they were all thinking: "What the hell did you just say?"

Although he looked rather grumpy about it, Leatherface finally wrote his message on a post-it note.

"Oh, the waiter is on the way, huh?" Freddy laughed. "Why didn't you say so, ugly? Send him along!"

As Leatherface made his way to the kitchen, Leprechaun muttered, "I'll never be oonderstandin' a word that lad says. A body would think that his English would be prooper an' sheeny as a goold coin. Instead he be a sportin' this odd accent so's ye dannae know what he be a wantin' to say. 'Tis a silly thing to have sooch a loorge accent and be in this wee actin' business, eh?"

After staring for a second, everyone present yelled, "**Shut up!**"

Before the green-hatted dwarf could think up a good comeback, their waiter arrived. He was a creepy-looking old creature with green skin and yellow eyes, garbed in a dingy brown cloak.

"Aaaaaw, damn... it's Wishmaster!" Candyman gulped.

His eyes twinkling in evil anticipation, the wish-granting ghoul pulled out a pen and notepad and asked, "So, gentlemen... what can I get you tonight?"

ALL: "..."

_Twenty minutes later..._

"Curse you all!" screamed Wishmaster. "Why don't you answer me?"

"_Shyeah, right..._" thought Chucky. "_We all watched the movie. First person to make a wish is going to be seriously screwed. What kind of ignorant moron would even **think** about ans–_"

"Weeeeeellll..." Candyman said, interrupting Chucky's thought (and answering his question), "I sure would like it if you could make me a cheese sandwich."

"BWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!" roared Wishmaster, his eyes lighting up with glee. "So be it!"

There was a bright flash of light, and Freddy found himself sitting next to a cheese sandwich with a hook sticking out of it.

"BWAHAHAHA! HEEEEHEHEHE! HOHOHOHO! Ha-ha... aha... phew," Wishmaster panted, running out of breath. "Okay. I'm better now. I've had my giggles for the night. The rest of you can order when the other waiter comes around. Toodle-loo!"

They nervously watched as the happy ghoul danced out of sight.

"This party is getting smaller by the minute," Chucky said. "Damn it, I'm still hungry!"

"Chill out, shorty," said Freddy as he (very carefully) picked his nose. "Greenie said that a new waiter will be by in just a minute. In the mean time, let's entertain ourselves with polite conversation. Michael, how's the family?"

MICHAEL: "..."

"Good to hear," Freddy said. "Bought any good knives lately?"

MICHAEL: "..."

"Yeah, I know," Freddy grumbled. "They ARE getting really expensive. Huh? What's that?"

MICHAEL: "..."

"Hahaha! That's a good one! Bwahahaha!" Freddy laughed, tears running down his face.

"_I'm surrounded by idiots,_" Leprechaun thought.

Before Freddy and Michael could continue their "conversation," the TV in the corner of the bar turned itself on. The image was blank at first, but then the image of a ring began to form on the television screen.

Knowing what was going to happen next, the four serial killers began screaming like little girls. The screaming became even more high-pitched when the half-drowned living corpse of a young girl began clawing her way out of the TV.

"**It's that chick from 'The Ring'!**" they gasped in unison.

She finally pulled free, fell from the ceiling-mounted TV, and landed with a "plop!" on the floor. She dragged herself to her feet and shuffled over to where the gang of murderers shivered in terror. Suddenly, her head snapped upward to face them.

"Like, hello!" the ghoul gal bubbled, grinning from ear to ear. "My name is Samara, and I'm totally your new waitress!"

Chucky, Freddy, and Leprechaun all face-vaulted. Michael looked sort of confused for a second, but then got with the program and pulled a delayed face-vault.

Once the gang had recovered from their momentary shock, Samara said, "So tell me, what can I get you four?"

"Uh… I guess I'll take the BBQ plate," Freddy said, regaining his composure. "How about you jokers?"

"I just want a pint of Guinness and some potato soup," Leprechaun said.

Chucky looked thoughtfully at the menu. Finally, he said, "I'm feeling like something different tonight. What's this Japanese-style steak like?"

"Oh, it is **so** delicious!" Samara said. "The neatest thing is that the chef comes out and cooks it in front of you."

"That don't cost extra, does it?" the doll asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course not! Would these eyes lie?" she asked.

After staring at her yellowed, watery eyes for a few moments, Chucky involuntarily shivered and decided that he didn't care one way or the other.

He muttered, "Fine then. I'll take the steak."

"Great choice, sir," she said, scribbling his order on a water-soaked notepad. Turning to Michael, she chirped, "And how about you, Mr. Myers? Um… Mr. Myers?"

Michael didn't answer; he was too busy munching on a cheese sandwich he had found lying around. His buddies stared in silent terror as he spat a hook out onto the table. Leprechaun crossed himself.

"J-just get him some water," Freddy stammered, wiping his brow with a red and green handkerchief.

"Okie-dokie," Samara replied. "I'll have your food out in a jiffy."

END OF CHAPTER 1  
----------------------------------------

That's it for the first part of this little escapade, but the next pulse-pounding, soul-chilling, appetite-ruining chapter will be here before you know it! Will Samara keep everyone's order straight? If the BBQ is finger-licking good, could Freddy lose his tongue? Most importantly, does Michael have room for dessert?

The answer to these and many more questions will be revealed in "Boogeymen Out for a Bite – Part 2"! Leave me a review for this chapter, and stick around!


	2. Eat and Run

She left the guys and walked into the kitchen. While they were waiting, the group took a moment to check out the famous decor of "Leatherface's Bar and Grill". Human and animal bones alike hung on strings from the ceiling throughout the restaurant, giving it a nice "down-home Southern bloodbath" look. The wooden floors were spotless, surprisingly enough; apparently all of the spilled blood was restricted to the kitchen (with the obvious exception of "Unhappy hour", when things often got pretty hairy). A flag of the Lone Star State hung in the corner, a vestige of the establishment's Texas roots.

Turning their thoughts to other matters, they began looking around the diner to see if they could spot anyone they knew. Their eyes soon lit on a beautiful woman drinking a martini near the bar.

"Whoa… who's the blonde?" Chucky asked, salivating. "Is she an extra or something?"

Freddy glanced up and said, "Oh, her. I'm pretty sure that's Sil. Then again, it could be her sister, Eve. I never could tell those two apart."

"Me heart skips a beat; I'd give up me riches… if only I could get that gal in my britches," Leprechaun mumbled, ogling her.

"You'd better keep away from the b unless you want one helluva child support bill," Freddy retorted. Seeing the puzzled look on the dwarf's face, he added, "Watch 'Species'. Then I think you'll get my drift."

Looking around the rest of the restaurant, they say quite a few other unusual characters lounging about. The Phantom of the Opera was playing cards with Dracula and the Wolfman in a dark corner. The Frankenstein Monster was eating with the missus, the Mummy was all wrapped up in a newspaper he was reading, and Herbert West (the scientist also known as Re-Animator) was doing unspeakable experiments with his meatloaf. The Invisible Man, normally a regular at Leatherface's, was nowhere to be seen.

"Wow, quite a crowd, isn't it?" Chucky remarked. "I bet Leatherface is making a killing. Get it? Killing? Hahahaha! Heeheeheehee! Hohoho…"

(_Silence_)

"… okay, not funny. Sorry."

Just then, Samara returned with their orders. She handed Leprechaun his soup, gave Michael his water, and placed a steaming hot tray of barbeque in front of Freddy.

After eyeing the meat carefully for a few moments, Freddy barked, "Waitress! Waitress! There's a human finger in this barbeque!"

"Well, since you're a friend of the boss, he said to put a little something extra in it for you," Samara explained.

"Aww… how sweet of him!" Freddy said, smiling.

Before the Springwood Slasher and his Irish chum could dig in, Jason Vorhees (wearing his trademark hockey mask, an apron, and a hat that read "Kiss the Cook... or else!") burst from the kitchen doors, pushing a food cart. He made his way toward the group's table, much to Freddy's displeasure.

"Vorhees! What is that candy-ass mama's boy doing here?" he muttered under his breath.

"He's the chef, silly!" Samara laughed. "He's here to cook Chucky's steak."

Freddy was about to protest further, but Chucky silenced him with a knife to the forehead.

"Can it, glove boy!" he whispered. "I'm **hungry**, and this guy is going to make me dinner. Have your little grudge match some other time."

Jason, apparently oblivious to these goings-on, spiced up the meat and placed it on the grill. He then turned the heat to the highest setting.

"Hey, lad," Leprechaun interrupted. "Shouldn't ye grease the pan a bit first?"

The butcher of Crystal Lake slowly nodded. He looked over to the items on his cart, his good eye finally lighting on two containers in particular. One said "canola oil", while the other read "high-octane fuel." He looked from the cooking oil to the gasoline and then back again. Jason scratched his head in confusion; it was times like this that he wished he knew how to read. Oh, well. What difference could it make?

He grabbed the gas container and poured it on the meat, setting it ablaze.

"Hey, stupid! You're burning the meat!" shouted Freddy.

"No, no; it's okay," Chucky said. "I always like my steaks well-done, anyway. All the same, this **is** starting to get boring. Hey, bright eyes! Make with the chopping and fancy tricks!"

He didn't have to ask Jason twice. In one quick movement, the hockey-mask wearing psycho pulled a machete from his apron, raised it aloft, and brought it down with crushing force on the burning steak. As has so often happened in the past, however, Jason went way overboard. He chopped not only through the steak, but also through the cooking surface and table underneath! Chucky, Michael, Leprechaun, and Freddy watched in fascination as a burning slab of meat flew over their heads and landed in the Frankenstein monster's lap.

"Rrrrrrrr! RRRRRRRRRRR! Fire bad! **Fire bad!**" the monster screamed as his loins were scalded by sirloin. Michael, being the conscientious soul that he was, walked over to the table and used his water to extinguished the green fellow's flaming lap.

"On second thought," Chucky said, nervously pulling the remainder of the steak away from Jason, "I think I'll cut the rest of it myself…"

-----

_Not long afterward..._

Freddy sat back in his chair, rubbing his overstuffed gut in satisfaction. He said, "Man... I gotta hand it to that Leatherface. He may be an ugly as hell, stupid, cross-dressing freak, but the man can cook some damn good BBQ."

"Well, I'm glad somebody's happy," Chucky muttered as he choked down the last of his steak. "Well-done is one thing, but I've eaten boots that were softer than this steak."

Leprechaun looked at him as if he'd just decapitated the pope.

"J-just kidding about the boots, Leppy, ol' pal!" Chucky assured him. "It's only a figure of speech."

The little Irish elf gruffly retorted, "Aye, it better be. To maim a thing as precious as a shoe be nothin' short of blasphemy! I'll have ye know that--"

Leprechaun's rant was interrupted by the feeling of something slithering up his leg. Screaming "BEGORRAH! A serpent!", he hopped out of his seat and onto the table in alarm. The whole group cautiously leaned over the table to see what the offending object could be. Freddy and Michael readied their knives in case it was indeed a snake; even undead boogeymen aren't partial to getting bitten.

To their chagrin, the "snake" was not a snake; it was a hooked chain, and connected to it was a pasty, white-faced man with pins in his face lying groggily on the floor. He stared up at them with a lopsided grin and croaked, "Hey, guys! How'th it goin'?"

"Pinhead? What the hell's the matter with you?" Chucky roared. "You scared the shit outta' us!"

"I'm soooooorrry!" he wailed, tears forming in his eyes. "I'd never hurt my (hic!) best budth! C'mere and gimme a big hug!"

Pinhead was off the floor in a flash and full-body glomping Chucky before anyone had time to react. The killer doll recoiled in disgust as the overwhelming aroma of gin, ale, whiskey, and booze of all sorts assaulted his nostrils.

"Gack! The stupid mo-fo is drunk off his ass!" he choked, trying desperately to escape.

"Get off him!" Freddy snarled, grabbing Pinhead by one of his many pins. In a superhuman display of strength, the nightmare demon picked up the intoxicated "Prince of Pain" and hurled him all the way across the bar. Pinhead hit the wall with a satisfying "smack!", followed by a cacaphony of breaking glass as the liquor cabinet fell on top of him.

"Ha! Sure showed him, didn't I?" Freddy gloated. Turning to Michael, he shouted, "Gimme five, man!"

The two exchanged a high-five that turned out to be very painful for the white-masked villain... Freddy should have used the non-gloved hand. Dracula rushed over and started licking Michael's mangled hand, which earned him a swift kick to the face. However, the hungry count was the least of their worries; Leatherface stalked darkly toward Freddy, and he didn't look at all pleased by the latter's bar-brawl shenanigans.

"MSFISDFHSDOFJSKDHFLSJADJKSLDJFDSOOOOOOOO!" (_I'd translate this, but I don't know that many naughty words_) Leatherface erupted.

"Hey, chill out! The guy was being a nuisance. I'll be happy to pay for the damages, if that's what you want," Freddy insisted. "Just give me the bill."

Leatherface slapped Freddy with the notepad in his hand, then held it up to his face. The Springwood Slasher's face paled when he saw the unexpected number of zeroes on the bill. He stammered, "T-this is a joke, right? All this for booze?"

Leatherface pointed to the list of items below, which included an irreplaceable antique cabinet, several rare wines, and a crapload of the afore-mentioned alcoholic beverages. He made the "pay up" gesture with his hand, followed by a "slit throat" motion indicating the consquences if his demands were not quickly met.

"Heh... heh, heh. Heh, heh, heh, heh..." Freddy laughed nervously. "I... er... hey, look! Is that a helpless fat guy in a wheelchair being pushed by a beautiful blonde?"

Forgetting himself, Leatherface pulled out a butcher knife and whirled around to where Freddy was pointing. When he saw only Samara, holding a handful of menus and looking rather frightened by her boss's crazed, bloodthirsty glare, the Texas chainsaw champ realized that he had been tricked. Sure enough, he turned around just in time to see Leprechaun's coattails as he dashed out the door. Letting out a bellow of rage, Leatherface retrieved his chainsaw from under the cash register, revved it up, and dashed outside. No one, **but no one**, got out of his restaurant without paying, and these four were going to pay with their hides...

-----

The four lunatics on the lam were running down the dark alleyway just as fast as their legs could carry them, strongly motivated by the ever-nearing growl of a running chainsaw.

"Faster! Run faster!" Freddy wheezed, his eyes wide with fear. "If Bagface catches us, we're hamburger meat!"

"I would, but something's dragging me down!" Chucky said, red in the face. Frustrated, he looked down at his jeans to see what was impeding his escape. "I--huh? What's this?"

Connected to the cuff of his jeans (and to Michael's, too, he discovered) was a hook, which in turn was connected to a chain, which in turn was connected to a still-plastered Pinhead who had apparently decided to hitch a ride.

"Fellath! Wait for meeee!" Pinhead called out, weary of being dragged along on his stomach. He quickly "reeled himself in" while Chucky tried to dislodge the hell-fiend's hook.

"Oh, great! Now we're a going to be saddled with this droonken dope!" Leprechaun moaned.

"I say we off him, right here, right now!" Freddy growled, scraping his metal claws together. Michael drew his knife, apparently in agreement. Before any such plans could be undertaken, however, the sudden appearance of Leatherface a mere 10 feet away threw the whole crew into a panic.

"We're doomed! Absolutely freakin' doomed!" Chucky squeaked.

"There be one chance!" Leprechaun exclaimed. "Everyone, hop onto Michael's back!"

Michael braced himself as Freddy, then Leprechaun, then Chucky, and then Pinhead dogpiled onto him. Although he was a bit unsteady at first, the superhuman fiend soon steadied himself. Pinhead (surprisingly) helped matters by tying the group together with his chains.

"Now, lad!" Leprechaun screamed as Leatherface began his deadly charge. "Do... **the walk.**"

Beneath his white, emotionless mask, a smile creeped across Michael's face. He knew exactly what his green-clad passenger meant. "The walk", as it's called in the horror business, is a special technique that only expert boogeymen (usually the super-strong, silent types) can master. It allows them to easily outdistance somebody running for their life just by strolling merrily along, and no one was better at this technique than the legendary Michael Myers. Time seemed to slow to a stop as Michael started walking away from Leatherface, a bubble of air surrounding him like a "Matrix" bullet. Michael and his chums were gone in a matter of split-seconds, leaving Leatherface alone in the poorly lit alley.

Realizing that they had **again** evaded his vengeance, Leatherface did his famous "angry chainsaw dance" in the middle of the alley, overturning trash cans and shredding several alley cats. Then, tired out by his own temper tantrum, the serial killer skulked back toward his restaurant.

-----

"Hey, Boss! Didja get 'em?" Samara asked eagerly.

Leatherface brushed past her without answering, retreating into his office. He slammed the door harshly, causing a picture of Jeffrey Daughmer to fall off the wall and shatter. Rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath, the ghost girl stooped down and began sweeping it up.

Meanwhile, Leatherface was busily flipping through the pages of an old phone book. Even if he couldn't catch Freddy, Michael, Leprechaun, and Chucky to dole out their punishment, he knew of someone who could... Finally locating the number, Leatherface quickly dialed it and waited for the other party to pick up the phone.

After a few moments, a gravelly, hollow voice answered, "Hello, this is Morningside Funeral Home. How may we help you today?"

"Trermin! Mrjashdofkdsajflkj," Leatherface said amicably.

"Well, well! If it isn't Leatherface," the other voice said with a chuckle. "Did you run out of BBQ meat again, my friend? I hate to disappoint you, but I'm fresh out of corpses."

"Nrr, nrr!" Leatherface said impatiently. "Suttenerse. Nutterjirb, frur udder brusnus."

"Ah, so you have need of my _other_ business venture, eh?" the voice asked. "Tell me, what can the Phantasm Bounty Hunter Company help you with?"

After Leatherface explained the situation thoroughly, the otherworldly being known as the Tall Man assured him, "Don't worry, booooooooy... Those scoundrels will be taken care of. My associates and I shall bring them in undead or alive; what tortures you inflict on them afterwards are entirely up to you."

With that, the Tall Man let out a long, lifeless, hollow laugh, one that Leatherface responded to with a grotesque chuckle of his own.

-----

_A few seconds ago, at the edge of a town far, far away..._

"All right, I think we lost him," Freddy said in a choked whisper. "Pinhead, get these chains the hell off me!"

Pinhead did as he requested, causing the whole group to tumble off Michael's back. As they got up and dusted themselves off, they couldn't help but notice that the scenery was entirely unfamiliar. Also, it seemed a full 10 or 20 degrees cooler than it had been in Hollywood. If further evidence were needed that they had left that wealthy subsection of sunny, southern California, the scene to their left provided it. There were thousands of containers of bubbling, noxious gunk lying haphazardly in a pile in the middle of the largest garbage dump they had ever seen.

"Pee-yew!" Freddy exclaimed, wrinkling his nose. "I haven't smelled bullshit this foul since the last Oscars!"

Leprechaun slowly placed his hat back on his head and mumbled, "Lads, I don't think we be in Kansas anymore..."

"Dammit... how fast did you run, anyway? How are we supposed to know where we are?" Chucky shouted, stomping the ground in frustration.

Michael grabbed Chucky's head and turned it to the left. There, in large letters, was a large, decorative "city limits" sign.

"Tromaville, New Jersey," Chucky read aloud. "Home of America's largest toxic waste dump, and... **wait a cotten pickin' minute! New friggin' Jersey?**"

Michael merely shrugged and pointed toward his Nike shoes. Whether his brand-name footwear was the culprit or not, it would seem that Mr. Myers had overshot by just a hair...

END OF CHAPTER 2

----------------------------------

Hey, folks! Thanks for being so patient in regard to this chapter. I wish I had a good excuse for it taking so long, but the honest truth is that I don't. Laziness was to blame, I guess. Look on the bright side: this chapter is probably double the size of the first one. As you may have guessed by the signpost, the next chapter is going to deal with the motley collection of ghouls, ghosts, and supernatural weirdos that Troma Studios has produced over the years. Troma is a company people either love or hate: their movies are just plain sick and often "bad" to the point of being "great" (sounds like most of my fanfiction, LOL). Anyway, I thought it would be a good place for our quartet of creeps to visit.

Anyway, be sure to stick around as the plot thickens. What horrors will the gang encounter in Tromaville, NJ? Will the Tall Man and his cohorts bring their visit to a quick, brutal halt? Will our favorite serial killers go nutzoid on the locals? Or will a certain hideously deformed creature of superhuman size and strength put the hurt on these killers who dare disturb his happy hometown? Put this baby on story alert and stay tuned to find out!


End file.
